For the information of Kenn Thomas, only about one person in ten is bioenergetically sensitive enough to feel directly the subtle etheric emission from the cones in a Spider unit. Heavily armored persons do not feel these emissions, and also tend to pull away from the equipment and otherwise talk and act irrationally. General LeMay however, was now going "into" this whole business. He had his aide, Major General "Nick" Nichols, similarly check for the cone emissions. General Nichols could also readily feel the subtle output from the cones. The Riverside sites I needed so badly were immediately arranged. Presto! A can-do guy had come aboard. This produced a rapid turnabout in Riverside's smog fortunes. The high Riverside smog levels in the pre-LeMay months of the 1990 smog season, which threatened Clincher's statistical success, were drastically reduced right through to the end of the smog season. This brought Riverside's seasonal smog tallies down by 11 percent under the previous year. General LeMay had meanwhile passed away. Everyone in Riverside, from aged asthmatics right down to thousands of babies in the their cribs, benefited from General LeMay's weighing in on my side. He never received any credit for his worthy, life-giving deed other than through the Borderland Journal. The standard preference was to keep fanning the bomb fires of Tokyo and reminding people what a terrible man George Wallace was. General LeMay was both astonished and delighted when the mountains east of his home, previously obscured by smog, became visible after his Spider went into action, and stayed visible thereafter. He was inordinately proud of the strange-looking structure that just kept turning at 12 rpm in his patio. Politicians and other people visiting him in search of his support and patronage, were henceforth required to go out with him and stare, dazed and uncomprehending, at the rotating Spider. "THIS" he would say, "is what is important." Called to Washington for consultations prior to the attack on Iraq, he carefully placed my videotape, the one he claimed had not convinced him, in his kit. "I'm going to make them watch this back there," he told his wife, Helen. The general had already forced a bewildered local congressional candidate to sit through the tape in his den, emphasizing its importance. General LeMay also initiated a program to emplace Spiders around the two most fog-plagued USAF bases in America. He had asked USAF personnel at nearby March AFB to produce the necessary statistical studies, and perform other preparatory tasks. A surfeit of Spiders would become available with the forthcoming end of Clincher. The general's death ended this promising new direction. With him aboard, we could have gone through armor plate. Without him, the world remained safe for the sitters, that common species of human for which Curtis LeMay had only contempt. He was indeed a can-do guy. General LeMay was in no way disquieted that the full parameters of the ether had not been established. All that, he opined, could be duly developed by turning appropriate USAF research resources on it. For him, at that time, it was enough that he could feel the subtle beams of energy leaving the Spider cones, and that he had seen the smog veil stripped from the mountains behind his home. Aware of the devastating regional inroads being made on smog by Clincher -- nothing like it in history -- he held that such a large practical proving blew away any theoretical arguments. I provided the general with a copy of my advance Federal filing for Clincher, which scheduled a twenty percent regional smog reduction for the 1990 season. The official form had been filed with NOAA back in April of 1990. Art Neff later told me that General LeMay showed him this official form and said, "Can you imagine anyone having the b... s to call this out in advance like this? Something this new? My kind of guy." At our last meeting before his death, General LeMay again emphasized how fully-funded research would duly find out about the ether and its laws. A solid result to Clincher would break down many barriers. The general was convinced that no one could argue with a sweeping practical result, extending over four huge counties and an operational season of six months. "You're doing what has to be done right now," he told me. "Just go right at them and let 'em have it." In the practical world, one worries not about whether an associate, or a friend, or a co-worker is "unarmored," or an antihero against the anticivilization." All my associates had their share of armoring, but every single one of them could work like hell for no compensation, for years on end, because they all had abundant personal experience of what etheric weather engineering could do. once entranced by the magic, they could never let it go. one associate with only thirty percent vision in one eye, blind in the other and with a mashed right arm that shook like a dice-box, could get through more work in a day than any two unhandicapped guys. Another associate, now well into his eighties, continues independent weather engineering work in Utah to this day, endlessly fascinated by the geometric approach to weather engineering. Nothing stops such men except death, old age or a bullet. General Curtis LeMay was a man of action. He chose to render me crucial aid in a radical new venture from which an ordinary Air Force general would recoil. A dozen businessmen and politicos had responded to my requests for help with evasions and greasy excuses. General LeMay acted immediately and effectively. The Tokyo fire-bombing? That never crossed my mind. Not even once. I was too delighted and grateful to have the here-now, real-world help of a great man, when so many little men refused me the simplest assistance. They feared the ribbing that might embarrass them at the country club. Having Curtis LeMay on board for those critical and victorious weeks in 1990 was one of life's rarest privileges. I will always honor his memory. Tally Ho Trevor James Constable
